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Time is ticking... As I lay here in empty silence Im reminded.....

Of you
Of her
Of how you two deserve the better me. The me who doesn't need a buzz, who can be there and give you 2 love.
I will admit....this feeling of being alone feels normal now but I still remember your touch.
As time ticks by... That's all for now.....The thought of you is to much.
WA West Nov 2019
His back was slightly hunched, but not to the extent that a stranger would notice. His lip jutted forward, like an animal edging towards a precipice. He used his voice instrumentally. His clothes were generic. People would not remember him after a fleeting meeting, he was not regarded as a charismatic man. He was born in Gateshead, England, although his name was Schultz.

He entered the hotel with minimal fuss, neutrally. Schultz did everything with the air of a man who wished to leave no trace after him, unaware that he was being pursued and plans were in place to put an end to his existence. The youth at the reception desk, looked out of place, exceedingly handsome but in an androgynous way. It was very difficult to read the youth. He was all function. 'I have a reservation'' the youth opened his mouth to respond as the chandelier fell. The impact was fatal. A noteworthy end to a monotone man.
JasFow Jun 2019
I travel all over the state
Different jobs, never the same hotel
Always alone in my bed
This week I reddened from the sun
First visit to the beach
Mini vacation to forget what’s in my head
Then I invite him in my room
Both drunk from downing cheap spirits
Scared of the outcome I still say come in
We watch tv and make small talk
An hour passes and we lay side by side
He looks at me and we both know
Under the influence our smiles match
A touch of my leg, his hand is gentle
We hug and he leaves for his room
Not ten minutes pass and I invite him back
All I offer is to cuddle
My face still warm from the burn
I changed to shorts and a cropped sweater
He joins me back and lays in my bed
His arm is comforting around me
Turning to look at him I realize he’s not
who I have been seeing
He is all the bad
But also good that he hides
I can’t remember if I did or if he did
We lean in and his lips are soft
His tongue opens my smile and I accept it
Fitting perfectly in his side I wrap around
His legs entangled with mine
Pulling me closer he grabs me tenderly
It’s another man in love with someone else
Yet here I am being held in his strong arms
Falling back, I remind him of his other
Admitting it’s complicated we just hold each other
A silent kiss is shared once more
He escapes back
The feeling of his hands rubbing my back echos my mind
Kissing my forehead while my eyes are closed, it remains
We’ll act as if it never happened
I’ll live with the memory and try to hate him less at work
Now back home we go
What a trip.
Im not sure what is happening but I’m just going with it all.
I'm awake
Wide awake at 12 in the morning
Ready for my eyes to be heavy with sleep, but instead my eyes are heavy with tears

While my family is sleeping in the bed next to mine

I lay still and empty of life as not to wake them at 12 in the morning, when the world itself is not even up yet
I can't sleep to much on my mind and not enough energy in place to turn down the voices in my head that are keeping me up past time to be sleeping. Have a good night or day depending on where you are and hopefully you get enough sleep❤
Mark C Apr 2019
my bedroom/airports/empty reception rooms/anywhere at 2 am
vacant parking lots
hospitals at midnight
museum waiting lines in the early morning
schools during break
late night supermarket runs
waiting for the bus at 5 am
walking down the cobblestone streets at 6 am
gas stations at dawn
unfamiliar McDonalds on long road trips

their buzzing electricity is my alternate reality. stretching across my view with reckless abandon.
day 20 - liminal spaces
DEW Mar 2017
White sheets flutter...
they dance around the room
they whip and crack like storm-kissed sails
I cower in fear, my bed is empty save for pillows.

I rest my head
I'm nearly dead
I ache with dread
I crumble, like abandoned bread
and the table we set
is unwoven by time.
Splinters, like loose thread, pile up as do bones.
We are no longer held together by compassion,
we are butchered by sharp tongues and piercing glares,
for shame! We thought it was a funhouse, but we revel in slaughter.

White sheets flutter...
they wave like sleeping flags
they wave like quaking lands
then they settle and I hear the white sheets whisper
and the whispers haunt me
are they soaked by old lovers
tears like oceans raining into the sky
blood like rivers escaping the bed
bowels of deceit coughing up their secrets
let us drink all this vile bile and be drunken by horrors.

Is that the only way we can escape?
Not sure how all the ideas came together or where the inspiration was derived. I just had a thought:
"What if our bed sheets were ghosts? What would they say?"
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2016
There I was.
Loitering in the lobby of her heart, after a long flight the only thing on my mind was rest.
The aroma was nice, stepping in through the double doors.
Following the stretch of carpet to the front desk.
Air conditioner stationed right above the door soon as you walked in.
Almost feeling myself sink into the splash of a fresh comforter.
I stood at the front counter waiting to be checked in.
Didn't quite feel like home.
The longer I waited the more anxious I became.
Messing around with the pen chained to the desk.
Making circles and snake like motions with the chain.
Noticing the dust under one of those small relaxation fountains at the closest end of the receptionist's desk.
The hum growing louder signifying that the water needed to be refilled.
More interesting.
There were no vacancies.
Good that I made reservations a month before time.
Noticing the aquarium over by the elevator.
There I stood loitering in the lobby.
Patiently waiting.
After a while, it sinks in that all lobbies are the same.
An endless void of waiting.
Was it absurd that I envied the fish watching me from the aquarium.
It's a strong possibility that he fell asleep watching me wait as the receptionist hasn't quite made it back yet
Every hotel room
makes me remember you,  dear,
lonely paramour.
Hotel Tropical, Ermita, Manila
Destiny Fleming Dec 2015
They don’t remember
her

Well, she got burnt out
in a hotel and lost
herself

Now,
you can’t make anything
out of
her.

-DDF
Caroline Lee Oct 2015
I'm filtering you through the crack of light that universally seeps through all hotel room doors at the tender hour of 3am.
That is to say,
this isn't a sonnet of love
Or an overly romanticized image of a 21st century youth,
This is realism
In that I am trying to process everything around me like it will disappear tomorrow
Sipping tepid cola watching the day fade through the trees
Losing track of time or when the hell I'm supposed to be anywhere
Because lately I've been going no where
Tracing my veins and driving in circles around your block
Trying to remind myself that though we live in an infinite universe,
And though we are all alone in our own skin
we're still connected through the cracks in the concrete and the curve of the earth.
And I think about all the river water I drank in trying to get to your shore
All the time I've waisted hanging just outside your door
And I know I tend to get stuck on the little things like the songs we sang or the arch of your foot
But I'm just trying to ******* process you so I don't have to spend one more night on my best friends couch staring at my skin wondering where all the time went,
Wondering if I had cleaned up a little better
then my mind wouldn't be so spent
So I'm staring into the light coming through the hotel door at 3am so I can filter you out of my chest and onto paper
So if I disappear tomorrow
I can know your memory for today.
Sometimes I get stuck on the little things
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